Though I say “yes I see”, no I really don't see (is my smiley face still on?): beer (brewing and drinking), camping, eating, hugging trees, kiting, fishing, ironing, hiking, geocaching and munzing, painting (oils, emulsion and gloss), ranting, recording history as I see it. Days with family, days with friends, days with granddogs. Always an opinion (always wrong), and rarely a dull moment. Welcome to my world... remember - history is written by those who make the effort to write it.

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17 September 2014 (Wednesday) - A New Ball

I had a rather good
night's sleep, and over brekkie I watched Kate Winslett in "Extras"
giving advice on phone sex. A rather odd show for 6.30am.

Apart from someone trying
to email me a virus there was little of note on the Internet, and I
set off to work on a rather dismal morning. The news was all of
Scottish independence; the vote is tomorrow and the pundits feel that
the result is too close to call. I find myself in an odd position on
the matter. I can't pretend to like the Scots; for many years they
have collectively boiled my piss. I live in Kent. All the Scots I
encounter are so fiercely patriotic and all vehemently hate the
English... so why are they all living in Kent?

However common sense and
history both tell us that politically we are better off together than
separate.

And (come to that)
why do so many Kentish-born-and-bred types all claim to have some
vague Scottish heritage which should make them eligible to vote in
the independence election? If Scotland truly is so wonderful and
people really do feel so strongly for their homeland, why not go and
live up there?

The leaders of the "Yes"
and "No" campaigns were interviewed live on air this
morning. The leader of the "Better Together"
campaign was erudite, and answered questions honestly and candidly. I
felt he was a tad smarmy, but he made his case well. The leading
exponent of the independence movement, the Scottish First Minister,
was (I felt) rather evasive. In fact he spoke rubbish. Having
been told that an independent Scotland would need its own currency he
still intends to use the pound. Having been told an independent
Scotland would not automatically be a part of the European union he
insisted it would be. I found myself wondering if black could be
white if he said so.

Who will win? Time will
tell.

I stopped off for petrol
at Morrisons which is still cheaper than Ashford's cut-price fuel
station, and which still has trouble accepting my credit card. That
machine has been on the blink for three years; you would think they'd
have got it fixed by now.

I got to work, did my
bit, and sulked a little as I could have spent the day fishing with
the first fruit of my loins today. It's probably over a year since I
last went fishing. Instead I consoled myself with saxophone practice
at lunchtime. Today's tootle went reasonably well. As I played away
in the car park I was approached by a managerial-type who told me
that she thought that it was good that I played my saxophone in the
staff car park at lunch time rather than wasting my time in a
non-constructive manner. I smiled politely and waited for her to go
away before I continued.

Once home I took "Furry
Face TM" out to play with his new ball. He
*really* doesn't get it; I threw the ball; he chased it,
picked it up and carried it for the rest of the walk. He refused to
let me have the thing to throw it for him again. Silly pup.

Whilst we were out I saw
that the railings were still blocking my Wheri-plan (it's a
geocaching thing) so I hunted out a new cache hide for my
Wheri-project. And I found one too. We came home and I did some hasty
re-programming and uploading. I shall field-test the 1.1 version
tomorrow morning and then hopefully spring the thing on an
unsuspecting public...